Thirty Corrupt, Thirty Pure
by Dr. Breifs Cat
Summary: A series of unrelated short stories and drabbles written for the "30 Themes for 30 Kisses" challenge. Some anime-based, some game-based, with the rating different for every story, yet always KazuyaJun. New Themes: 11, 21
1. Theme 1: Look Over Here

Disclaimer: Tekken and its characters are owned by Namco. Period. Unless you count the anime, which probably involves a licensing by a third party and I wouldn't know about that, since I'm not a part of any of that.

Notes: All drabbles and short stories in this collection were written for the "30 Themes for 30 Kisses" challenge. For more info, check out the 30kisses LiveJournal Community.

Theme 1: Look Over Here (Anime)

**Love and Pain and No Regrets**

Despite the terrible pain centered squarely over her chest, Jun Kazama never regretted taking the blow meant for Kazuya. She hadn't fought her way across the island like him, but followed his path closely, trying to reach him. It was strange how little changed in sixteen years. She had still been trying to reach him and he had still been evading her grasp.

But then he said _her_ truth, and though she was on the ground where he'd dropped her, trying to recover her breath because he'd choked her, she smiled at him. His body was marred with old scars and bleeding from fresh wounds and when another attack came, Jun pulled herself to her feet and threw herself in between Kazuya and his father. She hadn't been hurt like he was; she could take the punch better.

So she did.

She awoke later in a strange place, lying on a cot. She sat up too quickly and doubled over, curling herself into a fetal position in her pain. And still she was glad she'd done that for him.

"Hey."

The sound of his voice caused her to turn sharply and she saw him leaning against the metal wall of the small and unfamiliar room they were in. He looked like he'd been patched up a little and Jun noticed for the first time that there was another woman lying on a similar cot—Michelle Chang, she remembered—and realized wherever they were, it was equipped with an infirmary.

Through the pain, Jun stood up and tried to walk to him, but the floor was unsteady beneath her feet. Her caught her when she lost her balance, though it seemed he was rocking a bit, as well.

"Where are we? A boat?"

"Submarine," he answered, but didn't bother to tell how they got there or where it came from. Suddenly, the ground disappeared from underneath her all together and she realized it was because Kazuya had picked her up, the arm that had been steadying her still around her shoulders, and his other looped around her knees.

It was a sweet gesture, Jun thought, and she wondered if he carried her there in the first place. Smiling to herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder, her mouth brushing his skin in a butterfly kiss.

And she never regretted a thing.


	2. Theme 2: News, Letter

Theme 2: News; Letter (Game)

**Farewell**

During the time he spent in Nebraska, recuperating from death, off all things, Kazuya Mishima had learned how to be patient and how to pass long stretches of time in which he couldn't do much physical activity. In the past, he'd had to be patient, but he'd always hated it, always griped about it, while the Devil within him tried to placate him and make him understand that sometimes, biding one's time was necessary. He took waiting with something akin to grim pleasure now, knowing that there was a wrong and right time to act and that his judgment in the past had been very poor when it came to differentiating between the two.

As for passing time, Kazuya had taken up recreational reading, be it novels, newspapers or medical reports regarding the latest genetic experiment that had been conducted on himself. (In the past, Kazuya had enjoyed shoe shopping, but he was without a disposal income these days so he currently only had a pair of black dress shoes and red Converse All-Stars that he was particularly fond of. _The_ classic tennis shoe, they were.)

Because he was very good at being patient and very fond of newspapers from home, Kazuya was spending a more or less pleasant afternoon some fifteen years after his death with a small publication of limited circulation that some nameless G Corporation employee had brought him after a recent business trip to Nowhere, Japan. It was his habit to read the entire thing, from world news to local, if only because he honestly didn't have things to adequately fill his day. Besides which, he'd rather not let himself grow restless if he could help it.

In this tiny newspaper, of which the editor-in-chief would be ecstatic should his readership grow to even five hundred people, there was a tiny blurb regarding a woman in her early-thirties who disappeared without a trace. Her house, which stood surrounded by forest in Yakushima, had been burned to the ground and the closest neighbor was quoted explaining how, after being alarmed by smoke that could be seen for miles around, he found her teenage son among the wreckage, screaming.

G Corporation, and by proxy, Kazuya himself, were aware of the movements of what could be only the mythical God of Fighting, released by the foolish trespassing of that damned Heihachi's Tekken Force.

It was in this manner, reading an article he by all rights should have never seen, Kazuya Mishima learned of the death of a woman who, a lifetime ago, had been his lover. Too good for this world, she had been targeted by his own Devil, yet escaped miraculously. He kept his distance in exchange for her safety. This, it seemed, was in vain in the end. How fitting that he be able to blame it on his father; just one more in a long series of crimes.

He kissed the first two fingers of his right hand and touched them to the black and white image of Jun, nothing more than a collection of dots on thin paper that formed her likeness, but he had nothing more concrete to say good-bye to.

Regardless of the fact that he had not yet read the entire thing, Kazuya folded the newspaper crisply along the creases, right down to the fold made when the good doctor tucked it in a briefcase. With that, he rose to his feet and made his way to the dojo that had been built for his usage years ago. He had training to do and punishment to dish out.


	3. Theme 3: Jolt!

Theme 3: Jolt! (Game)

**Sparks**

Kazuya's body gives off electricity. Jun doesn't know how he manages to do that or if it's even done consciously. It makes lightning swirl around his fists and strike where he kicks. It also keeps his hair standing up through the sheer power of that much static.

Kissing him is like touching metal after walking on a carpet with socks. Jun doesn't know if that spark is because of his electricity or her love. She doesn't see a reason to question _everything_, though.


	4. Theme 4: Our Distance and That Person

Theme 4: Our Distance and That Person (Game)

**The Distance to Him**

Sometimes Jun wondered if Kazuya could even see her. He seemed to enjoy her company…for dinner, strolls, late-night liaisons between his silk sheets. But these times were outweighed by far-away looks in his eyes where she knew he wasn't thinking of her. What they shared should have been an idyllic, whirlwind romance, sudden love bubbling up between two people who'd only just met. What they shared instead was a struggle for a man's soul. Jun was one contender, a purple, winged Devil the other. In the middle, Kazuya was the prize. He didn't seem to care who won, so long as in the end, he still was able to kill his father.

In those moments, when Kazuya's gaze was hard and staring at something only he could see, Jun knew he was thinking of vengeance, feeling pain, wallowing in hatred. And she could do nothing but hold him, kiss him and beg him to come back to her.


	5. Theme 5: Hey, you know

Theme 5: Hey, you know… (Game)

**Bond of Brothers**

"Hey," Lee said in a conversational tone, just one of his many attempts to get along with Kazuya in recent years, "she was pretty cute." When his _adopted!_ brother didn't respond, Lee shrugged and figured he'd, once again, been the bigger man and done the best he could to bring their gap. The past two years had taught Lee that he really should have treated Kazuya better when they were growing up, but he still wasn't willing to take too much responsibility for any of it. He had, after all, known that his role in the so-called family was to be the favorite and make Kazuya mad. Lee didn't pretend to know all that was going on with the Mishimas related by blood and he didn't want to know. He had just figured one day that really, Kazuya couldn't have done anything when he was a child to deserve all the shit his father put him through. Even then, he probably wouldn't have sided with his brother over his father, but it had been so obvious that Kazuya was going to win and Lee was, if nothing else, an opportunist.

He was supposed to come better off for siding with Kazuya—that was, after all, why he'd done so. It didn't quite work that way. Kazuya hated him. Not as much as he'd hated Heihachi and certainly not enough to attempt fratricide, but the venom was there. Humiliation and degradation were a constant part of Lee's daily life as Kazuya's right-hand man. And he knew that tiny bit of amusement that gave Kazuya was the only thing between Lee and being kicked out on his ass. Well, he reflected any number of times, I've lived on the street before, I could do it again. Realistically, with his level of education, natural intelligence and charisma, it wouldn't even come to that. He could get another high paying job easily. If Kazuya kicked him out. Lee knew walking away was a Very Bad Idea. These Mishimas, they were dangerous in about fifty different ways.

Still, never hurt to be amicable.

The Eco-Fighter, Jun Kazama, age 22, fighting style ancient Kazama Judo-based arts, employee of the 3WC—Lee had all the statistics for every fighter memorized; Kazuya would be pissed if he couldn't rattle any of them off at a moment's notice—walked past them and her eyes stayed on Kazuya's for just a tad longer than what you might expect…

If they'd been teenagers, Lee would have nudged Kazuya and told him to go for it in hushed tones. As an adult, he merely pointed out that she was pretty cute and took a drag on his cigarette, giving off a calculated air of friendly indifference. If you like her, that's cool. If you don't, that's cool, too.

Nothing about Kazuya's demeanor implied that he heard a word that came out of Lee's mouth. Lee should have been used to Kazuya's appallingly one-track mind by now, but he still always figured that there had to be something else tumbling around in side the guy's head. He'd find out what it was out sooner or later.

Inwardly, Lee frowned. At this rate, he'd never get Kazuya to see him as anything more than someone to clean up after him, answer his telephone calls and carry two briefcases of work-related crap that Lee knew he didn't need to bring with him. Outwardly, he inhaled deeply, a good half-centimeter of his cigarette burning up in one shot. The unsuspecting cigarette dangled in half-puckered lips until, Kazuya plucked it right out his brother's mouth and snuffed it out against Lee's right palm. The cigarette was flicked to the ground in a disgusted motion.

"Shit, you didn't have to do that," Lee fumed, wiping the ash from his hand and trying to salvage the burn.

"I've told you not to smoke around me."

Lee growled. "It doesn't matter if we're outside!"

"I say it does." It was unspoken that Kazuya's word was law. "Let's go."

They left the stadium because Heihachi's Semi-Finals match had ended in a victory, Lee knew that. He also noticed they followed the same path as the cute girl fighter. He wondered if Kazuya did.


	6. Theme 6: The Space Between Dream and Rea...

Theme 6: The Space Between Dream and Reality (Game)

**Shades of Jin**

Living in the wilderness like they did, Jin was a little lonely and a little bored. His parents felt guilty that he didn't have any friends his own age or a school that he could go to, but they had discussed the matter over and over and always came to the agreement that it was best for the family to remain isolated. His mother taught him to read and write. The boy delighted in stories and she did all she could do to encourage his reading. His father taught him math and history; he had a better mind than Jun for math and his education was extensive, so Kazuya knew the small details in world history. Neither wanted their son to be a martial artist, but he saw them practicing their katas once when he was very young and wanted to join in. Jun taught him her family's traditional style. Seeing his son in a fighting gi was troubling for Kazuya. He feared Jin would have the sort of life he grown into and always retreated into the house when Jun was out with Jin, training him.

The Mishima Manor was a large and sprawling estate which had existed in some manner since the warring states era, when it had been the castle of a lord. Through the centuries, it had changed hands, been torn down and built again, survived wars and celebrations. The Mishima clan acquired it sometime before Jinpachi's business exploded and expanded in nearly unfathomable directions. Heihachi had been born and raised there, as was his son Kazuya. He brought a second boy into the household, Lee, and the family was only happier for it. Kazuya's wedding had been a large and impressive affair, also on the Manor grounds, and the simple country girl he was marrying had blushed and stammered and said it was all too magnificent for her. When the patriarch of the family died, it was a wonder any of them ever cheered up. It was probably due to little Jin, named after the great-grandfather he would never meet, that joy returned to their lives.

It was quite difficult to tell when Kazuya, in all his weary glory, would stumble up the steps of their apartment and into the foyer. Jun knew salary men had it tough with the economy bad like it was so she never asked him to try to work less or call when he thought he would be coming soon. It made it hard to have his dinner fresh and waiting for him or to keep the bath water warm, but as long as she was always greeted with a kiss hello, she was happy and tried her best to keep him happy as well. She had been the one to ask that he leave the Mishima Zaibatsu and that life of evil and was thrilled that he accepted. On occasion, if things were looking grim, she was afraid that he might turn his back on Jin or herself, run back to the rich world he had left to challenge Heihachi for his throne. He hadn't yet. Jin probably had it worse, Jun supposed, his father never had time to play with him or help him with his homework or watch the demonstrations down at the dojo where Jin studied Wado-ryu karate. Jin didn't bear any grudges against his father. All the kids at school were the same way, after all. A pat on the back and a few video games and he was happy.

In fact, Jun thought, the only way any of them would have been happier was if any of it was true.


	7. Theme 8: Our Own World

Theme 8: Our Own World (Game)

**Him, and Her Delusions**

That the world belonged to him was such an easy thing to believe. There was no truth in the claim, but he held the illusion so well. She wanted to be at least a little disappointed. Money, it seemed, could buy anything, at any time. She wanted to believe that people were stronger than that, that they followed their hearts, their conscious, that ideal that love, friendship and self-worth was ultimately more important than any patronage or tip. She wanted to be disgusted with him and the casual way he could wave an employee or servant to action or dismissal. She wanted to tell him that he did not own the world, that the laws of human decency were his to follow as well. He was not above that, or anything.

Beneath it all—wealth, physical prowess, his own cold shell—there was only one way in which he was different from any other man.

He was the only one who made room in his world for her.


	8. Theme 9: Dash

Theme 9: Dash (Game)

**Devilspeed**

For some reason he really couldn't place, he was in a hurry. He hadn't been in his home country of Japan for fifteen years at least, hadn't thought of it as home in longer. Something inside of him was a little off-kilter, something was saying _leave now, go home_. It was nothing he'd known before, like a twisting in his stomach. Questioning the usual voice instead his head got nothing more than a mental shrug. That Devil didn't know either increased Kazuya's unease. Devil knew him better than he knew himself, he had always thought. The demon spent his dormant hours picking through Kazuya's brain, deciding what could be used and what should be discarded. He was a free-range symbiont, had all the keys to every locked door and his own personal wrecking ball for the inner walls of the mind.

Heihachi had been on the continent some months back, much further south, in Mexico, with a whole fleet his mercenaries. Kazuya felt no unease then. He didn't think Heihachi had tracked him to North America. Heihachi thought he was dead and Kazuya wanted to keep it that way. Not out of fear, Kazuya knew no fear, but because he wanted his freedom. If his father knew he was alive, the battle would begin again and the loser would surely die.

Kazuya had died once. He didn't care to repeat the experience. It was best to lie low, living and working and training in America, for now. When Heihachi was gone, maybe he would step forward and claim the Mishima Zaibatsu. Maybe he wouldn't. It would depend on what he wanted when the time came. A man could only have so much misfortune in a lifetime. Sooner or later, he was bound to have what he wanted.

The need to leave he felt now, it wasn't a desire to flee from something or merely a sudden case of wanderlust. He wanted to run to something. Someone was calling out to him. That thought alone filled him with discomfort. No one called for him, no one had any use for him. Others were his tools and he answered to no one. And yet for some reason, this person calling out, it was driving him to hurry, driving him to answer.

Kazuya didn't know where he was going in a specific sense, he merely followed the direction, the call. It was the first time in his life that the ability to sprout leathery, bat-like wings from his back was a practical ability. Though Devil had not been able to shed any light on the cause of the urgency, he clearly felt it as well. In control of their physical body, Devil needed no directions from Kazuya to soar to the source. In his dormancy, Kazuya sat back and watched through Devil's eyes, not caring to pick through the other's brain even though it was one of the moments where he had been granted the option.

Oddly enough, the two finally tracked the urgency to its source and found bloodlust. A raging fire, scorched trees, the body of a beaten and discarded youth and a woman at the mercy of a monster. The creature held her by her hair, but the face was serene.

Devil knew that face. They both did.

Who had they come for? The monster, or her? Or, for the first time, had their reasons been unique and their goal the same?

In the end, it didn't matter. The woman's life was over and the creature lived on. The presence of Devil in the long run made no difference. But then, he'd never been one looking to change the world.

Jun's death, at least, was difference from Kazuya's. She was not alone, lying in a pool of her own blood. She was with someone and able to feel his breath on her even as she breathed her last. Her soul slipped away in the dead of the night, whole and pure and so fully unlike him.


	9. Theme 10: 10

Theme 10: #10 (Game)

**The Tenth Time Doesn't Count**

The first time they met was a quick exchange of pleasantries at the start of the tournament. Most of the contestants, having come face to face with Kazuya Mishima, either started cursing at him or declaring how badly they would beat him. Jun Kazama shook his hand and left it at that.

The second time she saw him, he was watching a fight from his private balcony, in the upper tiers of the stadium. He was far away from her, so she didn't get a good look, but Jun had thought he looked dreadfully unhappy and for a moment, almost pitied him.

Jun woke up in the middle of the night once and wandered across her hotel room to look out the window. She had wanted to see the stars, but the city lights of Tokyo made that impossible. She did, however, see a purple light coming from the roof of the Mishima Zaibatsu's main skyscraper. Jun never knew it was Kazuya, screaming in anguish and giving control of himself to Devil. Still, it was the third time she saw him.

After she won her first fight, Kazuya gave her a thin-lipped smile and offered her congratulations that he did not particularly feel. That was the fourth.

Another day came and went and Jun found herself arguing on the phone with Kazuya's secretary, attempting to make an appointment. How, she wondered, could she find the information she needed to put an end to the illegal smuggling and testing of endangered animals by Japan's foremost financial empire, if she couldn't even get into any of the important buildings. Evidently, Kazuya became aware of Jun tying up his phone lines, and she was on at least three at once, since Lee kept trying to put her on hold, when he missed a conference call he'd been expecting. He docked Lee's pay as punishment and assigned him overtime hours for the next three weeks. As for Jun, he told her he had fifteen minutes free the following Wednesday. She could come then, if she swore that he would not hear from her again in the interval. She agreed and that was the fifth.

Some friends from work told Jun that since the 3WC was paying her tab, she had to have at least one night out. She relented after much badgering and the group of friends treated themselves to the hottest new restaurant in town. He was there with his group of eight direct subordinates. She passed his table on her way to the bathroom and desperately avoided his gaze, for fear he would recognize her and call their conference off. Jun needn't have worried, as at that moment the only thing he had been paying attention to was an internal dialogue between himself, Devil and a newly arrived third voice he'd dubbed Angel. His mental picture involved white wings and a golden circlet resembling a halo, so he had thought it appropriate. And so, their sixth meeting passed them by.

The seventh was exchanged hellos at the coat check the same night. Jun took up avoiding the gaze of everyone afterwards and her friends wondered what was going on, but soon dropped the subject when something more interesting came along.

They ran into each other in a hallway after that. There must have been something about the lighting that made him look attractive, Jun insisted to herself later, because she could not find any other conceivable reason why they had kissed. Angel danced and told Kazuya he had wonderful taste in women. He was quite convinced he was losing his mind. That made it eight.

When Wednesday came, Jun racked her brain trying to think of something to talk about. She had just wanted clearance into the building to snoop when she made the appointment, but she still had to fill up fifteen minutes with something that wouldn't be a waste of his time, lest Kazuya discover her true motives. In retrospect, she needn't have worried. They spent fifteen minutes and then some having sex on his desk. Nine.

She never saw him in person again. In any other circumstance, Jun would have bemoaned the horrible man that used her and left her, but Kazuya was different. After all, the next day, Kazuya died. She left Tokyo feeling eerily calm, hiding in the woods where the animals welcomed her, unaware that she'd abandoned her job and in doing so, betrayed them. She tried very hard not to think about him, but that was a task that grew more difficult as the days past.

Everyday, her son looked more like him.

So everyday, she wondered why she couldn't see him anymore.


	10. Theme 11: Gardenia

Theme 11: Gardenia (Game)

**Intensity**

She loved nature. It was the first thing he'd really noticed about her that was different from anything he'd ever seen in anyone else. She was a fighter, of course, but most people in his universe were, so that alone gave her no distinction. But she loved nature. And she loved it with a passion that he'd never seen in anyone, had never known existed. The most passionate feelings in his universe were negative. Positive feelings were small and dim, unable to stand up to the weight of hatred and anger that consumed him. To love anything passionately was completely alien.

Her love of nature captivated him and in a strange way, reminded him of himself. She went to any length, bore any hardship, took any risk to protect nature and revel in its splendor. The only other person he'd ever seen such dedication in was himself.

And if love could inspire the same intensity as hate, then he supposed it was a worthwhile sensation to pursue.

He knew nothing of nature and nothing else about her, but it was why he brought her gardenias.


	11. Theme 12: In a Good Mood

Theme 12: In a Good Mood (Game)

**At the Door**

"Excuse me, miss, you can't go in there."

The woman turned to Lee Chaolan, whose desk was set up against the opposite wall. She'd spoken to him before and she was a contestant in the tournament, he knew, yet somehow her name escaped him at the moment. He brushed it off; how many women's names could be expected to remember?

This woman, in particular, had the gall to just try and walk right into Kazuya Mishima's office, without so much as being buzzed in by Lee or even an appointment. The woman was lucky Lee had stopped her, he thought. She obviously didn't know denying Kazuya even the tiniest bit of manners and grace was a death wish. He wondered how much experience she even had in the business world. Certainly, it wasn't much. Her dress and manner was casual and inappropriate. Lee, who was only a secretary—and he wouldn't admit to anyone—janitor, dressed in a black tuxedo daily.

"Mr. Mishima doesn't take kindly to people who bother him." How Lee hated referring to his brother with such formality. He'd hoped when he chose Kazuya over their father, he'd enjoy the same high favor he'd been used to when Heihachi was in charge. He should have remembered to factor in how much Kazuya hated him. He knew Heihachi had never liked him much either, and figured Kazuya would keep up appearances for the sake of it. That was dumb.

The woman smiled beautifully at him and if Lee didn't know better, he'd have thought the look was just the slightest bit condescending. "I think I'll manage."

"At least let me make you an appointment," Lee said, flipping through his copy of Kazuya's date book. "If half an hour will suffice, Mr. Mishima has an opening in two weeks. If you need more time, I can't get you in any sooner than next month. Also, I'll have to get a written description of what you'd like to discuss for Kazuya too look over in advance."

The woman was still smiling and inwardly, Lee cursed that Anna was so close underfoot these days. They weren't exclusive, but she would take offense if he started hitting on other tournament participants. He would dearly love to get a feel of that mouth.

"My business," the woman said, "is regarding tonight's dinner plans." Lee paled and for a crazy moment wondered if she could read his mind. "Michelle told me about a bistro she likes. I'm sure it's not up to Kazuya's usual standards, but it sounds just lovely and I was hoping we could change our plans."

Lee blinked. "And you are?"

"Jun Kazama." She walked across the hallway, back to the door of Kazuya's office, and entered without even knocking. Lee closed his eyes and prayed she found him in a good mood.

* * *

On the other side of the door, Jun said, "You haven't told your brother about me, have you?"

Kazuya merely smiled and asked, "What took you so long?"


	12. Theme 13: Excessive Chain

Theme 13: Excessive Chain (Game)

**Chain Letter**

The first later came about six months after the tournament. By this time, Jun Kazama's belly was growing at an alarming rate and she was beginning to question her decision to stay in Yakushima by herself rather than take her younger brother's offer to move to Osaka and live with the family. Uncertainties were bubbling up in her mind—what if she went into labor prematurely and was unable to get to the hospital? What if her cabin was too drafty for a baby? What if the baby was attacked by a wild animal? Jun knew she was losing time to think about these things, but her desire to stay hidden was stronger than the nagging voices who wanted her to think something would go wrong. Things were more likely to go wrong in a big city, where she feared creating a paper trail that would lead the Mishima Zaibatsu to herself and her child. Heihachi Mishima had killed her lover—that she had just broken up with him at the time notwithstanding. Jun had wanted to give Kazuya some space to think things over for himself, to make the right choices for once in his life without being guided by some outside force. True, this had been a horrific failure, but the beast haunting him had left him in death. Jun thought that was a victory for him and was comforted by the idea that he was at peace. Still, she felt she owed it to Kazuya to guard their child from every bad thing that ever touched the baby's father. So in the wilderness she remained.

The Kazama clan had owned the land she now lived on for nearly three hundred years, if one was to believe family lore. It was a large piece of property with ridiculous taxes, but because they all did believe the accounts of how this Kazama hid the deed from feudal landlords or how that Kazama lived in solitude after the horrors of World War II, no one was willing to sell the land. Jun never saw the tax papers herself, they were always sent to her grandfather in Osaka. The cabin was without running water, electricity or any modern convenience that one might be billed for, so as such Jun never expected mail of any sort. Once a week she liked to call her brother, but for that, she made the long trek to town, riding in an old yellow school bus that served the locals as public transportation. She had a bulky old cell phone for emergencies which was kept charged and turned off at all times. Should the battery run out, there would be a problem, but she only intended to use it to call for an ambulance when her water broke.

So Jun Kazama never expected mail that day six months after the tournament. She had no bills to pay and no one who would choose to write to her. She quit her job to live off the land and her family knew that if they wanted news, all they had to do was ask her brother. But the postman arrived all the same in a little beat-up motorized scooter looking confused and a bit irritated that he had to make such a long trip. She met his knock on the door with apprehension—who would come calling for her?—and his annoyed expression with a sympathetic smile. She took the letter, promised that it was very unlikely that he would have to come all this way again, and invited him in for tea. The little postman stiffly turned her down, saying he wanted to get back to town as soon as possible, and tootled away on his scooter, looking very self-important, as government workers are apt to look.

The envelope itself was very strange—a horizontally aligned Western business envelope with a clear plastic window in which she could see her name and address and a sticker in the upper left corner displaying the address of the sender. The sender, apparently, was a corporation she'd never heard of located in Nebraska, America. All of this was quite odd, but it did not match up with her name, handwritten in that little window in very precise, practiced kanji. Frowning in thought, Jun sat down at her kitchen table, tore the envelope open on one of the shorter sides, blew into it, and shook it's contents out.

A handwritten letter on Western notebook paper greeted her, her address having been written on one the back of one of the pages after it had been folded up so that it would be visible through the window. She read the letter slowly twice to ensure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing and both times, her entire body trembled. Finally, she folded the letter back up with distinct movements, as though she was forcing herself all the while. Jun placed it on the table, walked slowly and deliberately to her bedroom, laid down on her futon and cried, stroking her stomach.

Two days later when she was ready to deal with the letter again, Jun rode the yellow school bus to town, bought an envelope, some stamps and paper at the post office and wrote a two-line reply in English. She mailed this letter, visited the town doctor though she wasn't due for a check-up and treated herself to a nice lunch before going home.

Twelve weeks later, the little postman returned, just as annoyed as before. Her son had only been born five days prior and she didn't have nearly enough soft, safe places for him to lie down, so she came to the door a bit frazzled after trying to decide whether she should put the baby in his bassinet or on the couch or try to open the door while holding him. She finally decided on shouting, "Come in!" while she greeted her visitor who had to open the door for himself, Jin in her arms. The postman handed her another envelope just like the first one and just like the first time, refused to come in for tea. Jun did not want to read this letter and it was hours before she did so.

Two weeks later, she took Jin into town so that he could have his picture taken for the first time. Ten weeks after that, the postman returned with the photo package she had ordered from the department store. Jun was very happy to have the photos, since Jin looked nothing like that anymore and planned another trip into town to send pictures to her relatives, who had yet to meet the baby and she wanted to save him the usual cheek pinching and sloppy lipstick kisses for as long as possible.

On a whim, she sent a wallet-sized photo to the letter-writer.

Twelve weeks later, she got another reply.

She had Jin's picture taken again so that his image could adorn her New Year's cards. She sent one to everyone she knew, including the letter-writer.

She was waiting twelve weeks later for the postman, his beat-up scooter and her letter.

Because Jun didn't always reply to the letter-writer—usually she didn't, in fact—she didn't always know when to expect another. She kept waiting for the letter-writer to get bored with his game and her baby pictures but it never happened. Every time she sent him something, though, she knew the reply would come twelve weeks later, like clockwork. Six weeks to get from Japan to Nebraska, and six weeks to get from Nebraska to Japan. At some point, the letters began to dwindle, though they never stopped. A yearly school picture of Jin and a yearly letter in reply.

* * *

_Jun,_

_It's taken me a long time to find you, so you may be wondering why it has taken me so long to contact you. Or perhaps you are merely under the mistaken belief that I am dead. If that is the case, then I certainly cannot blame you, as no human being could survive the drop into a volcano. I was no exception to that, but my body was recovered by the genetics firm G Corporation, who repaired the damage and in the process, revived me. It is only because they allow it that I can write to you now._

_G Corporation's aim in recovering my remains was to understand how it is I can share my body with Devil, whom I am sure you are eager to forget. I am also curious, so though I have regained consciousness, I encourage their work, even though it involves using myself as a guinea pig._

_I want to assure you, however, that this is not the path I would have chosen. I told Devil before the volcano incident that I wanted to call off our deal. I believed that with you by my side, I could have been a better person. I still believe that. It turns out that the ties between Devil and I are stronger than a mere agreement and the time has passed that we could physically separate ourselves. I cannot be the person you wanted me to be, so I hope you can accept me as I am. I love you, and I know at some point you returned this affection._

_Kazuya_

* * *

_Kazuya is dead. This is very cruel._

_Please do not write again. _


	13. Theme 15: Perfect Blue

Theme 15: Perfect Blue

Blue

In the short time that she'd known him, Jun Kazama had become particularly enamored with that particular smile of Kazuya's. The one that said everything was progressing exactly the way he had planned on, the way he wanted. She told him once that he probably had a terrible poker face; if he was holding all the cards, everyone would know. He laughed it off at the time and hugged her a little tighter around the shoulders.

Another time, after winning a fight against an opponent who was somewhat of a sloppy fighter and gave her an easy win, she told Kazuya that frankly, she felt silly fighting in overly shiny paten leather shoes. It had always seemed fine before, because before she was fighting at her family's dojo in Osaka, or with her father in Yakushima (why they didn't live with the rest of her family, she didn't know), but now she was entered in a tournament against people who fought for a living, or fought for some higher goal. (Not that she didn't have a higher goal as well, but the fighting was merely her 'in' to get the information she was really after.) These people were so much more serious and so much more grim. She felt out of place and silly.

Kazuya had laughed at that, too. And he, the grimmest one among them all, told her that some times he fought decked out in his best suit and wearing shoes far shinier than hers. (He obsessively polished his dress shoes. It was a habit and not one he considered bad.) He asked why she didn't understand that out of all the places in the world, this was the one she belonged in the most. She asked why that was. Jun didn't like cities very much. They were nosy and polluted and there was no wild life outside of zoos. He said it was because he wanted her here. She laughed and called him selfish, but she hugged him about the waist and chastely kissed his mouth, so he assumed it was alright.

The arrogant smirk she adored was plastered on Kazuya's face, so Jun was sure a look of wonderment was on her own. When he smiles like that, all she could ever hope to do was wonder what on earth he was planning now. The butler (poor overworked man who set their meals before them, cleared the dishes, answered the door, took care of the laundry, ran the bath water and countless other jobs Jun had yet to witness) set a large box before her and stepped back when Kazuya nodded. Jun had seen such boxes before carrying fur coats or dozens of roses. (Neither of these things had ever been given to her, of course. She was outrageously opposed to the fur industry and found ending a plant's life because one found it pretty to be nonsensical. If one found them pretty, he should leave them be to let them grow ever more so.)

While Jun didn't know if he was only this way towards her (and she suspected he was, from all the horror stories she'd heard in which he played the villain), Kazuya was extremely prone to gift-giving. It was only natural. He had more money than he could ever hope to spend, no matter how extravagant he was. The man had been surrounded by things since birth, able to get the very best of whatever material object he wanted all his life. (Perhaps Heihachi thought himself to have been a good father, or at least the best possible. For all Kazuya lacked in affection and human interaction, he was never once left wanting for anything else.)

So he gave her things, when he couldn't give her anything else.

Jun thanked him before opening the present, though she was quite uncertain of what might lay within. She knew he knew her better than to give her furs or flowers, and outside of that, she had no ideas what might require a large box like this.

She grinned honestly when she opened it, though. Inside, lay a white pair of shoes, soft and pliable, much like the Chinese slippers worn by so many of the other contenders. It wasn't just the shoes, though, but a complete outfit. A blouse, shorts and thigh-high stockings, (even a ribbon for her hair), all of which were nearly white, but instead were a very light pastel blue. For someone who had been told so often that white was her color, it was the perfect shade of blue.

From then on, when she fought, she wore what his gift and never once felt silly.


	14. Theme 16: Invincible, Unrivaled

Theme 16: Invincible, Unrivaled

**The Air of the High Places**

"I need to help you," she told him, "like I need to breathe."

It was such a strange thing for someone to say to him that Kazuya didn't know what to make of it. He had been sorely tempted to strike her, but she didn't appear the least bit afraid of him. Violence toward her didn't stand to gain him anything, which meant he didn't know what to do. Kazuya was someone who had spent his whole life plotting out his possible courses of action and following through on what gave him the most satisfaction with the least sacrificed on his own part. He wanted strength without working for it, power without responsibility. Devil gave him those things. Her assistance was unneeded. Kazuya told her so, mocking her words.

"So suffocate." His tone said quite plainly that the conversation was over and she stared after him as he walked away, the tails of his trench coat billowing out behind him as usual.

This was the black-haired Japanese woman who entered his tournament because he had invited her. Kazuya knew the 3WC wanted proof that the Mishima Zaibatsu was involving in the smuggling of endangered animals. He watched this woman struggle for what he purposely kept just out of her reach for entertainment. She had been frustrated and he wanted to see how angry he could make her. How much can he taunt her without making it look like he was admitting everything she would accuse him of? How much could he turn her stomach? What would it take to make that desperate, crazed look in the Indian's eyes appear in hers? If he stood before her, when would she abandon everything else just to attack him?

Kazuya wanted her to hate him, attack him and lose. From so many people, it was all he wanted. The finality of knowing that he is as invincible as he thinks he should be, as unparalleled as is his right. Kazuya has never questioned why he has this right but accepts it as truth regardless. His world is not one that requires questions, just like it is not one that requires the help of anyone but Devil. The black-haired woman could not give him anything he wanted, just like the winged woman could not. He had had no use for women since he cried at his mother's funeral, waiting for her to kiss his tears away and finding himself beaten for the weakness instead. They had their own goals they wanted to force upon him uselessly. Take away his meaning, that knowledge that nothing can stand against him, for what?

"What is your oxygen," he almost considered asking her, once when she was far away from him, so he did not ask and was later glad for that, "my pain or my deeds?"

This woman is below him, he knew, because he has watched her fight. He found her style interesting—she kicks her left leg back when throwing a punch with her right fist and she back handsprings away from her opponent when she wants distance—but ultimately, it was lacking in power. She herself has the strength to throw and juggle, to snap bones or rip them out of their sockets. Kazuya suspected she might have lasted longer in the tournament itself had she focused her training more on using strength than gaining speed. Being fast is a fine foil to a point, but it only takes one good hit to slow her down and someone strong can get through her defenses quickly. She was stubborn though, and didn't know when to quit. Kazuya would have respected her for that, but she was beaten into unconsciousness in her Quarter-Finals match.

The tournament would be over soon. He would probably never have any reason to see her again. She might even leave once the staff medics gave her the go-ahead. But then again, she might be too stubborn to go crawling back to her bosses at the 3WC and tell them she failed. How could he be expected to predict the actions of someone he didn't even know? Certainly, Kazuya had never expected her to come to him, telling him that she needed to help him. Help him with what, anyway? He had assumed she was after some sort of moral change given her line of work and organization. For all he knew, she could have been requesting a job. He didn't know how a woman's mind worked and didn't care to ask either of the women he actually knew. He doubted Anna Williams could legally be considered a woman (though she recently had celebrated her twentieth birthday, Kazuya still thought of her as the teenager he met two years ago when he came home from the streets) and he didn't particularly think Kunimitsu was worth talking to concerning any subject. The kunoichi was willing to part with any information, no matter how mundane, only on a strictly need-to-know basis. In general, he thought it was a good quality for an underling to have, but she set her ninja mind-games on him as well, so he rarely had the patience to talk to her, outside of giving orders.

Kazuya approached Jun Kazama when she was lying unconscious where her opponent had left her. He crouched beside her for a moment, wanting to ask what her business was with him, but when she showed no signs of waking up soon, he supposed it was best that he drop the whole thing.

When her eyes fluttered open, Jun realized she wasn't where she had fallen in battle, but someplace unfamiliar. The view was spectacular from the roof of the high rise, though, and had she known it was one of Kazuya's favorite places, she wouldn't have seen any reason to question why.

"What do you want with me?" Somewhere between his mouth and his brain, Kazuya's question had reworded itself and left out 'business' entirely.

Jun sat up fully, noticing she had been in a half way reclining position supported by his arm. His frown looked unnatural, as though the human face had not been constructed to frown quite that deeply and his eyebrows were drawn in such a way that looked like he'd never been relaxed a moment in his life. His suit showed no indication of the violent transformation from man to demon and back again that took place while she was sleeping. If she asked how they came to be on the roof of his building—just one of many that belonged to him, actually—and he answered truthfully that they had flown, she probably wouldn't believe that he had sprouted wings from his back. Of course, that didn't matter.

"I told you," Jun smiled at him, glad that he was finally talking to her, when any other woman would have been thinking he could rape her and kill her and no one would ever know, "I want to help you."

Kazuya could have asked, 'With what?' and gotten an answer that could potentially be anything from income taxes to exorcism. He could have asked 'Why?' and been simply told 'You're you.' Instead he said, "Oh," and she held his hand.


	15. Theme 19: Red

Theme 19: Red (Game)

**Burning**

From across the room, the television flickered as Jun Kazama flipped through the channels, looking for something that would hold her attention that wasn't related to the Tekken Tournament. She'd had enough of that lately. Thus far, the day, which was only a few hours old, promised to be a slow and hazy one and despite all that was going on around her, she was determined to relax. If she could get Kazuya to join her, well, all the better.

At the moment, he was seated at the small desk situated in the northern most corner of the room, pouring over some bit of Zaibatsu business. Jun had always thought herself married to her work, but she couldn't complete with Kazuya. In addition to an office downtown, his home was equipped with an office and a study, both of which had piles of paperwork waiting for him at any given time. The third desk in his bedroom was mainly there to take up space in the overly large room, as was the television and bureau. (Kazuya was not inclined to watch much TV and he had a walk-in closet for his clothes.)

In the world outside, the King of Iron Fist tournament continued on its merry way without them. Jun had lost her Quarter Finals match to Wang Jinrei and while she'd been rather disgusted with herself at the time (was it only yesterday?) she had been able to put things back in perspective rather quickly. She never came to the tournament to win, but as an undercover agent for the 3WC, just one organization on a long list of those out to get the Mishima Zaibatsu and place its enigmatic CEO in a jail cell. She lost her battle against her mentor and teacher, but she escaped the tournament with her life, which could no doubt be attributed to the fact that she'd somehow managed to claim a piece of Kazuya's heart for herself. He knew why she signed up for the tournament and what she had really been after. She'd seen the intent to kill burn red in his eyes the first moment they met. Yet somehow, right before her, he seemed to melt into something softer, more human.

As for Kazuya Mishima, said CEO and current King, his only fight was in the final round, for the title itself. Until the last contender was the only one left undefeated, his only role in the tournament was as its benefactor and organizer. As far as it was concerned, the longer it took that last contender to reach him, the better. He was confidant in his ability to win and wasn't hoping for more time to train, he wanted to flaunt his power over his father—who he was quite sure would make it to the final battle without breaking a sweat—for as long as he could. Because once the tournament was over, Heihachi would be dead, and there was simply no satisfaction in grinding a corpse beneath your heel.

Finally convinced that the world was too busy lapping up violence like a cat with a bowl of milk, Jun clicked off the television. She stretched before pulling herself off the bed, on which she'd been lying stomach down and sideways, so that her head was at the foot. She also cinched the robe a bit tighter around her waist and chest. It was Kazuya's; flawless and white and much too large for her.

Jun strolled to where he sat at his desk, the scratching of his pen across paper as he signed his name to yet another document in neat, cursive Western characters ruining what otherwise would have been perfect silence. She thought it a little strange how quickly they had adjusted to one another, how easily they could exist side by side, as though they fit together like pieces on a cosmic puzzle, though by all rights, they shouldn't. He was the top of an empire built on arms trade, drug traffic and the smuggling and experimentation on endangered animals. He was a killer without moral reservations. What part of him could possibly attract anyone, let alone her?

Even has Jun reached him where he sat and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, she didn't know. He paused in his reading, reviewing and writing to lean against her, rogue strands of her hair brushing against his cheek and neck, kissing his skin.

In a moment, the warmth was drawn away as Jun's whole body seemed to flinch. Paper was snatched from under his hands violently. Kazuya turned in his chair, surprised, about to ask what the hell that was about, when he saw her. With her skin nearly as pale as the robe, Jun was backing away from him, the hands that clutched the parchment shaking and wearing an expression that was possibly the closest thing to fury she ever had.

"A volcano?" Her voice painted yet another conflicting image—fear in her hands, anger in her face and disbelief in her voice. Was she waiting for him to calmly explain, 'no, you misunderstood, that's not about a volcano at all.'

Instead he said, "A fitting end to the tournament, wouldn't you agree? It's taken the contractors I hired far too long to finish the ring, but Lee was finally able to send me the notice of completion just yesterday."

Jun's voice shook now, too. "Why?"

Kazuya smiled at her and beckoned her to come closer. Jun took a step back instead and he frowned. "My father—who_ will_ make it to the final round—was able to survive being thrown off that cliff two years ago. I really thought that would do him in, he was beaten and unconscious even before I threw him. And yet he returned. I'm not willing to take chances any more. This time, the loser will be thrown into an inescapable and fiery death."

"How much hatred could you possibly hold? To do such a thing?"

"That is an interesting question, my dear. However, it's also one to which I'm sure you know the answer. I've let you see him before, after all."

"Him?"

Again, as on the first day they met face to face, Kazuya's eyes began to glow red. Unlike that day, Kazuya allowed the transformation to continue. A third eye grew out of his forehead, his skin turned purple, a pair of bat-like leathery wings grew from his back… Whatever he was, it was something far more sinister than even she, the psychic, had known. The creature advanced on her, but Jun remained still. If she should die here, it would be her own foolishness in thinking she could save a monster that got her killed. She could accept that she had forfeited her life to this man. She had already given up her cause, her heart and herself to him. Her life was all she had left to give.

A clawed hand had wrapped itself around her neck and Jun was fairly certain it would begin to squeeze in any moment. Instead, the claws receded to fingernails and the hand—now human—moved against her neck to delicately hold the back of her skull. Without her noticing, Kazuya had come very close against her, holding her lightly and his mouth was at her ear.

"You should run," he whispered. "He very much wants you dead."

"Kazuya…" His name on her voice was a plea. For what, he didn't know.

"You should run," he repeated and released her. Jun moved away from him slowly, as though something was forcing her to leave, something she was fighting against. But the further away from him she got, the easier it was to flee. Out of his bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs, through the front gate, all in a white and clean terrycloth robe.

Red was the color of the devil's eyes.

Red was the color of her blood that stained his white robe when she tripped in her haste and scraped her knee.

Red was the color of her heart that was broken, and

Red was the color of the lava.


	16. Theme 20: The Road Home

Theme 20: The Road Home (Game)

Peace on Earth

The years of investigation…

The months of deliberation…

The weeks of battles…

Somehow it all ended with her riding a yellow school bus that some town official had purchased at some unknown time when an equally unknown school decided it was time to retire it. It was a rural place; it didn't have much of any need for public transportation. She didn't need anything fancier than a school bus with duct tape over the seats where students had ripped them. She didn't mind that the rubber path down the isle was peeling like old linoleum. The break pads could probably stand to be replaced. The engine guzzled gas and spat out pollution at levels that were definitely illegal these days. At the very least, if someone was going to drive this bus, the least they could do for it was keep to roads that are paved.

All of these are meaningless to her now.

Once upon a time, she would have been frustrated. Time, effort, blood and sweat, all wasted. Seeing that rickety old bus, she might have taken the case of it to town hall; it polluted, it wasn't built to navigate these roads, they didn't need a bus system to begin with; everyone owned a bicycle. When your closest neighbor was miles away and you couldn't afford a car, bicycle was a necessity. If you went about it right, you'd be sure to get a basket on the front to carry your groceries and a banana seat, to carry two people.

She was always trying to save the world. He used to tell her not to bother, no matter what she did, the world would fuck itself over. She would jab her finger at his chest with righteous anger and try to explain to him why he was wrong _this_ time. Every time. He would swat her hand away, turn from her and pretend not to care.

Later, he would do it right.

And she would think, don't you see? I am saving the world.

At some point she couldn't even now determine, her world had stopped being the earth and became him.

She was completely, entirely, emotionally numb. That she couldn't call upon her old spirit, the old fire she used to feel, she didn't have anything to call that but tranquility. Peace. There was peace on her world because she saved it.

So she never became like what he used to be. Wronged, and hateful because of it, throwing vengeance at anything she could, unleashing anger at anything that could bare it and everything that wouldn't.

No.

She was at peace.

And he kissed the sky.

And without pain, she got off the bus.


	17. Theme 21: Violence

Theme 21: Violence; Pillage/Plunder; Extortion (Game)

**Recollection**

Dimly, she remembered Kazuya. It was hard to know about much of anything at the moment, but he was there, on the edge of her consciousness, just behind the encroaching blackness. Just before the blackness was the sound of the ten count. Numbers were ticking down, but she found herself unaware of why or what she should do about it.

She thought she was dying.

Kazuya, she remembered, was stronger than the darkness and was beating it down with his very presence. She roused herself to life, just a little. The numbers were still ticking. He had advised her not to go. She would lose automatically, of course, not even showing up was a forfeit, but it was want he wanted.

It was one of two occasions where she just didn't really care about what he wanted, and insisted upon going. The other…the other was his purple friend. She hated the specter, but he was fond of it. He wanted to agree to disagree, but she was stubborn and wanted to bring him around to her thinking. Because she was stubborn, she had said she was going and that there was nothing he could do about it.

He ordered her to throw the fight. She agreed, not wanting to anger him, but had no intention of going through with it. He might never speak to her again if she succeeded, but it was a small price to pay.

The mere thought of her determination was enough to rouse her more, to drive off the blackness. The numbers were still ticking and she realized that she needed to stand up before they reached zero. Reaching zero meant failure and that was unacceptable.

She pulled herself to her knees. Someone had been laughing, but they stopped now. One foot on the ground, shifted her weight to it and pushed up. Both feet on the ground.

She smiled through the blood on her face and whispered fiercely, "I'll save him."

Heihachi Mishima shrugged dismissively, "Come."

Round Two began.

The winner would go on to face Kazuya himself, the King of the Iron Fist. It would cost her his affections, it may even cost her her life, but if Jun could prevent the confrontation between father and son, then she knew she could save him.

She remembered Kazuya.


	18. Theme 22: Cradle

Theme 22: Cradle (Game)

**Fly on the Soul**

The one called Devil approached the human known as Jun Kazama, who lay crumpled and defeated on the ground. If an immoral could have a moral enemy, she would have been his. As an entity without a physical body and a being composed mostly of a supernatural purple gas, his even existing at all was meaningless without a host, a person willing to share his body and mind in exchange for the demon's power, a power which by all rights should be far beyond the scope of anything another human could offer or possess. Twenty-three years ago, Devil made a claim on a child, a child bleeding, broken and abandoned. Neither of them would be anything without the other. The child would die and the demon would drift, unable to affect the world of those who lived and breathed.

Acting as one, the two had been nearly a force of nature, unstoppable and unyielding. As the years passed, the child grew and used the power allotted to him at his discretion. Each time the demon was called upon, more and more of his host's soul became entwined with Devil's essence. Long ago, they had reached past the point where the host could extract himself. Logically, they should have reached past the point where anything of his host was unknown to Devil.

But there had been something small, in a dark corner of Kazuya's heart that even one who possessed his soul and used his body could not touch. A small, tiny glimmer of goodness, a place within him where hope and love could live. That alone, Devil could have dealt with. He could twist hope into greed, love into passion and then to a passionate hate. An adjustment here, a tweak there, and it would all be his to know and manipulate again.

However, unforeseen complications being what they are, unforeseen and complicated, the woman possessed a power of her own. It was nothing Devil had ever contended with before and he did not know whether it was supernatural in origin like himself or an ability any human could manifest, given the proper desire and training. What Jun Kazama came into to contact with that was dirty or polluted, she purified. She washed away bad karma and appeased lingering resentment. To separate Devil from his host, while not something either of them could do, he feared this woman had the ability and would choose to use it. He could not voice these concerns to his host; if the human got the idea of exorcism planted into his head, he may seek out the woman's power. His life was in no immediate danger. He had no need for the demon.

Quietly, cautiously, Devil began feeding new and numerous ideas to his host, grandiose and elaborate schemes to built a larger web of influence throughout the world, to gain more power, to push the Zaibatsu farther than even his predecessor had imagined. Inside these ideas, tucked away as a safe and easy ploy was the death of the woman. Devil's power had turned the man into something lazy and cowardly. He preferred what was fast and easy to what was long and drawn out and made him wait for delayed gratification. Kazuya would choose for himself to kill the woman, having only a vague feeling that she was between him and something he wanted. Removing her as a roadblock would be so very easy. He would not even have to bother delegating the matter to his inner circle of employed thugs he called bodyguards.

Every time Kazuya heard her name or was reminded of her, the longing to kill her grew. With it, Devil's apprehension and fear eased. Two beings as closely connected as they were, as Devil became at ease once again, his host did as well. Thinking of her made tension unwind, knotted muscles relax. Jun Kazama became a source of comfort and security. No longer able to afford leading Kazuya to his own unavoidable conclusions discreetly, Devil demanded her death, vocally and forcefully.

He never asked Jun for help. Kazuya probably did not even know she had some power over Devil. Aside from the tiny, dark corner of his heart where hope and love thrived, every bit of Kazuya's soul was screaming for her death.

Jun herself probably knew that she could have saved Kazuya from himself and from what dwelled within him. Even when Devil took control of his host's body by force and attacked her, frenzied and destructive, she did not use her power, the light that Devil had seen power from her, invisible to human eyes, when she spoke to Kazuya's allies—the bitter, the hateful, the ashamed. The way she fought back was mechanic, half rehearsed and half instinct. She didn't want to strike at Kazuya.

The demon questioned it, why she fought so hard for him. Not even the man's best interest, but what she thought he would want the most, what would be appreciated by him and what would make him happy.

"I love him," she said. "Even if he was a thousand times happier than anyone else in the world, I'd still think he deserves more. No matter what he does or what choices he makes, I'll still love him. I can disagree with him, I can ask him not to do something, but I can't force him. If he changes or stays the same, I won't love him any more or any less. If he wants a devil within him, I won't stop him."

The one called Devil, victorious in his campaign against the being who threatened his very existence, approached the human known as Jun Kazama, who lay crumpled and defeated on the ground. Aside from the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the woman didn't move. Devil, standing above her and staring down, didn't move either. For as long as he battled with the other human, he had suppressed Kazuya's voice inside the mind they shared. His host hadn't fought against the control of the demon. He tried not to be curious. The affairs of humans were mundane. Or perhaps he had just been paranoid and his host didn't care about this other human as much as he feared. Perhaps they had never even considered cutting Devil out of Kazuya and leaving him to drift in nothingness.

"What shall we do with her?" the demon asked the other, though he'd already decided 'Kill her,' was the only acceptable answer.

"She tells me, the best revenge is to live well."

Revenge was Kazuya's favorite topic. He wanted vengeance from all who had every wronged him, whether it be in truth or just his perception. It wasn't surprising that he would have discussed it with her. Devil would have known all they said to one another, if not for that damned corner that he hadn't reached. Devil had always felt the best revenge was the kind delivered swiftly and violently, yet even he could see the satisfaction of being happy in life and knowing it was enraging one's enemies.

Devil knelt down beside the fallen female warrior. Her breathing was deep and steady, like a person having a pleasant nap, as opposed to a martial artist beaten into unconsciousness. He had thought he controlled the body, but as deeply entwined as he and Kazuya were, no matter which form they took—human or monster—perhaps there was no complete control to be had for either of them. What compelled him to lift the woman from the ground and into his arms, to just watch her rest there peacefully, it could have been himself, it could have been Kazuya. He didn't know.

But it was Kazuya's eyes that watched patiently until she awoke, and Kazuya's lips that kissed hers. Her power, whether she was even aware of it or not, was drawn out by Kazuya's desires. Her eyes were closed and she didn't see the white light that engulfed her body. It separated the man from the bodiless essence and cast out the unwanted parasite.

The humans took solace in the presence of the other.

The demon took solace in the fact that nothing was that simple.


	19. Theme 28: Wada Calcium CD3

Theme 28: Wada Calcium CD3 (Anime)

Notes: I might be alone in this, but I don't see any indication in the Tekken Animated Movie that Kazuya died. Jun does think near the very end that "the wind just changed," which is likely be her sensing something bad happening, possibly Kazuya's death, but nothing specific is said. If anything, Jin dresses like Kazuya in Tekken 1 and is credited as "Jin" rather than "Jin Kazama." I personally think the implication is that Jin grew up with both of his parents in the movie-verse. I'm not trying to convince you one way or the other, I just don't want a bunch of people telling me that Kazuya would have been dead at this particular point.

**Familial Supplement**

When the front door of the little cottage opened that afternoon and shut just as quickly, Kazuya Mishima was making an attempt at a just _fascinating_ nap with a book tented over his face and therefore saw no reason to get up and greet Jun. Evidently, she disagreed because she walked straight into the living room and placed a small pill bottle on the coffee table with a louder_ thunk _than was strictly necessary.

With an inward sigh, he nudged the book down around his nose so that he could see and regarded the bottle—and Jun, who was sitting on the coffee table, one leg over the other and her arms crossed over her chest—and asked what she obviously wanted him to. "What's that?" Kazuya considered sitting himself so that he wasn't taking up the entire couch but decided against it. If she was feeling like playing games instead of saying whatever it was she wanted to, then he wasn't feeling agreeable. She'd just have to deal with that and sit on the coffee table.

"Calcium supplement," Jun answered, picking up the bottle and handing it to him. He took it, scanned the label for a moment and handed it back.

"I see."

She put the bottle back on the table next to her. Again, Jun was waiting for him to say something. He didn't see why, since he'd already been the last one to speak, but Jun grown tired of their one-sided conversations quickly. Sometimes, she wouldn't just say things anymore, he'd have to jump through whatever hoops she'd set up and be rewarded with whatever she wanted to tell him in the first place. He thought it was absurd and told her so on several occasions, but when he did, Jun would just look sad and say that she didn't want him to deny her anymore. He missed the days when she would prattle on endlessly and he would just put up with it. Kazuya wasn't good at determining what she wanted from him, they would both spend less time being frustrated if she'd just tell him. But unfortunately for him, relationships were filled with give and take situations and he was far more accustomed to take.

Now was the time to pretend he was interested, rather than what he was, which was bored and wanting to take a nap. "Is that why you went into town today?"

Jun nodded. "I had an appointment with my doctor. I have to stop practicing martial arts for the time being, which means losing muscle mass. The pills are so that I don't lose bone mass as well."

Now he_ was_ concerned. "Why would you stop?"

"Well, I won't be stopping entirely, just cutting down on the more rigorous aspects. And no more sparring, since somebody I know enjoys sucker punches to the gut a bit too much." Well, Kazuya wasn't about to disagree with that. Most of their sparring sessions seemed to end with him knocking the wind out of her, pulling her to the ground and making love. Those sucker punches had been good to him. But it didn't answer his question.

"Why would you stop?" Fighting was in her blood as much as his.

One of her hands strayed to the pill bottle, tracing the edge of the cap. "I went to the doctor today," she began, but stopped. She didn't want to say it like that, make it sound like a disease. Kazuya had sat up somewhere along the line and was starting intently at her. She had inadvertently made it sound like she was ill, but could he really be that dense? The look on his face said he was. Jun started again. "I know we haven't talked about this and it's probably not something you want. If it's not, I understand. But I want it." He probably understood by now, but she said it point blank anyway. "I'm pregnant, Kazuya."

He didn't lose his intensity, leaning into the couch with his eyes closed, some internal battle waging inside of him. He had nothing but hatred for the family he already had. Jun had convinced him not to kill his father and find something more important than the slow, spiritual death he was inflicting upon himself, but that didn't mean he was ready, much less willing, to go and create another branch of the Mishima clan.

"I don't want it," he said, finally. "It'll just be more of the same." Hate, abuse, death. _Get rid of it_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say that, not to her. _Get rid of it before it's too late._ But he wanted to. Jun claimed to have injured as he was, straight down to her soul, by the actions against him. Kazuya wanted to believe that. His desire to be understood, to not be alone was stronger than his desire for her well being. He pursued their relationship out of selfishness, out of wanting something good for himself for once. She had loved him since she was six years old, doing nothing but searching and waiting for him. Someday, when her influence had made him a better person than he was now, Kazuya wanted to be able to return that loyalty and faith. But he hadn't come that far. That day wasn't today.

"No, it won't," Jun had moved to the couch, sitting next him, her body turned towards him, one arm around his shoulder, the other cupping his face, forcing him to look at her. Her devotion was fierce. "I love you and you love me. Our baby," somewhere, his mind registered that they weren't calling the child "it" anymore, "will know nothing but love. Everything will be alright."

He didn't want to tell her that he didn't believe her, that he thought he could already feel dislike for this nameless being swelling. Didn't want to tell her, didn't want to curb the hope that she deserved to have, but he wanted her to stop trying to convince him to believe.

To silence her in the only way he could, Kazuya leaned forward and kissed Jun, hoping that she would mistake whatever he had for passion.


	20. Theme 29: The Sound of Waves

Theme 29: The Sound of Waves (Game)

**Solitude in White**

So here she was, wearing her simple white dress, sandals in her hand rather than on her feet, wading ankle-deep in the ocean. She told herself that this solitude in a white dress was her wedding. For eternity, she would be married to the memory of a dead man. It was her own fault for leaving him that she'd never have a real wedding. It was her own fault for issuing an ultimatum, asking him to choose her over things she knew now she could never possibly understand. Maybe she just hadn't wanted to believe that the parts of him she couldn't see where really there.

He only took his shirt off in the dark; he didn't want her to see that ugly scar. He never spoke to her of the people he had killed, the deaths he wanted still, those he kidnapped, the places he destroyed… She only needed to know that there was goodness left in him still, getting stronger everyday she spent with him.

She gave him the choice to live with her (and the child she didn't yet know they had created) or the life he had which never once made him happy. She thought he would choose her.

He did not.

She should have believed in the things she couldn't see. The Angel who died when she left. The Devil who came to her when _he_ died, wanting her child. The Devil who looked like _him_ but was not and the only one among them who knew she was pregnant.

She supposed she was a little glad that her baby would never be a Mishima. But mostly she was glad for the ocean waves, drowning out the sound of her sobs.


End file.
